In The Mourning
by aefkjsdlnljasdbnvijfadnbvijer
Summary: Levi mourns the death of his Squad. Erwin helps him through it.


_Truth is, I don't know which is better… I never have… Should I go out on my own, or should I put myself in the hands of my comrades? Either way, there's no guarantee…_

Levi glances at the dancing shadows that the flickering firelight has created on his bedroom wall. If he squints, he swears he can see their outlines…

Petra's strawberry blonde hair that sways so innocently in the wind…

Oluo's lanky height that causes him to hunch over in faux intimidation…

Eld's ridiculous blonde ponytail that never wavered even at the worst of times…

Gunther's strong and sturdy stature...

Gone. All of them. Crushed and destroyed by the Female Titan in ways that Levi will never know, because he wasn't there.

Levi raises the glass of liquor to his lips and takes a swig. He hates the way it burns down his throat and warms his chest. He doesn't deserve to be comforted like that. He deserves the crushing darkness that appears when his comrades die. He deserved to watch Petra's father crumble at the realisation that her daughter was no longer living. He deserved it all, _because he wasn't there._

Another drink. And another. And another.

It's only then that Levi's thoughts begin to get fuzzy and before too long he's thinking about Erwin.

Erwin's commands. Erwin's orders. Erwin's words. Erwin, Erwin, _Erwin_; everything always came back to that man.

If Levi deserved to go to hell for his sins, then Erwin had already had a lifetime membership.

So many men had died, many that Levi was found of - although he'd never admit that out loud - under Erwin's orders. He had tried, tried so fucking hard, to hate him. Every single fibre of his being should hate Erwin by now… And yet…

Levi could never hate Erwin.

Because Levi loves Erwin.

"Stupid motherfucker," Levi growled, tossing his empty bottle on the floor. "That stupid fucking asshole."

And just like that, as if he _knew _Levi was talking about him, Erwin comes to the door.

"How's your leg?" Erwin asks casually at the entrance of Levi's room.

Levi doesn't look up. He doesn't want to see the concern in his Commander's face. He doesn't want to be the object of the Commander's affections. The Commander should be concerned with so much more than Levi.

"Broken," Levi states, his usual deadpan delivery slightly slurred. He's not sure if he's talking about his leg or himself.

"You should be resting," Erwin says.

Levi doesn't say anything.

He wants to. God, he wants to yell and scream at Erwin. He wants to throw the biggest temper tantrum ever made by somebody over the age of 30. He wants to go crazy.

But Levi doesn't say anything.

Erwin heaves a concerned sigh and enters the room. He reaches down to pick up the empty liquor bottles and strewn items on the floor. Levi watches Erwin clean up the small mess, and feels his heart calm a little.

"You don't have to clean for me."

"If it makes you feel better, I'll do what I can."

Levi makes a pained noise. "I don't need to feel better."

"You say that every time, Levi, but you know it's not going to stop me." Erwin mutters, so soft that Levi swears it's not his voice. But he knows better than that.

"I know this one is particularly hard for you." Erwin says as he sits on the bed in front of Levi. "I'm very sorry."

Sorry isn't going to bring them back.

"It's okay," Levi mutters, as if the lines have been said many, many times before. "They were no different to the rest."

But Erwin knows better than that. Levi had that Squad for at least 3 years.

3 years of no deaths.

3 years of companionship.

3 years. Gone in a matter of seconds.

Ever since Isabel and Farlen, Levi and Erwin have an unspoken ritual of talking it out after his Squad members die. Over the years, he's held Levi tight against his chest in an attempt to soothe his pain many times.

But Levi's never drunk himself into abandon like this.

Erwin worries.

"Do you hate me?" Erwin asks the all-important question, like dipping his hand into unknown water to feel the temperature.

Deep down, Erwin hates himself for sending countless soldiers to their deaths. But he's done it so many times that he hardly feels it anymore. He doesn't have the time or energy to waste worrying or carrying about the dead. It's hard enough to keep track of the living.

But Levi always hurts. Sometimes Erwin thinks he hurts for the both of them. He is kind and compassionate where Erwin can't be, despite what other people believe and see.

Levi looks at Erwin like he's been betrayed. "Never," he whispers like a vow. "I don't deny that I should, but no matter how many deaths there are, I could never hate you Erwin."

They sink into each other like pieces of a puzzle, embracing under the flickering light and amongst the thought of the expedition.

Levi clutches onto Erwin's shirt, fingers twisting in the fabric as he holds on like it's his lifeline.

Erwin nuzzles his head against Levi's, breathing in his scent and everything that he is, as if it will somehow make up for wrongs that he's committed.

Words don't need to be spoken anymore. They've done this so many times; it's like second nature.

As night turns to day, they wake up. They put on their masks of indifference and pretend to be okay.

Except Levi doesn't.

"You think that's good enough?" Erwin hears Levi's unusually loud voice yell at two new recruits - Sasha Braus and Connie Springer - from down the hall. They stand in the middle of one of the bathrooms amongst cleaning supplies. "_Do it again_."

Levi always compulsively cleans after expeditions.

"Levi," Erwin says, as they all turn their bodies. The two recruits greet him in a salute while Levi just glares. "Debrief in my office in 5 minutes."

It's not entirely a lie, he does need to debrief his Captain on the expedition, but it's not going to happen today.

"Yes, sir." Levi says, storming out of the bathroom.

"At ease, recruits." Erwin says smoothly. "Go get some rest. Do the cleaning tomorrow."

The last thing the new recruits need is manual labour. They've suffered two enormous blows in the space of a month, and it shows in their eyes.

Maybe Erwin does have some compassion after all.

Erwin follows Levi's limping form down the halls and to his office. When they finally make it inside, Erwin tries to start with words. "Do you want to talk about what that-"

But Levi doesn't want words.

Instead, he lunges at Erwin, grabbing desperately at his shoulders in order to bring their lips together. It's all teeth and tongue, and it takes several moments for Erwin to gather himself and kiss back.

"Fuck me, Erwin." Levi hisses in his ear. "Fuck me until I can't walk. _Fuck me_."

Erwin doesn't complain with that. He holds onto Levi's body and spins them around so that Levi is pushed up against the door. This isn't the first time they've fucked their problems away. For as long as they both will live, it won't be the last.

It doesn't take long for them to push down each other's pants – neither is wearing their 3DMG straps, thank God - and start fucking hard and fast. Erwin marks all of Levi's skin that he can reach with his teeth while Levi's blunt nails scrape against the skin under Erwin's shirt.

It's over quicker than it started, and Erwin wonders whether Levi will be asking for a round two. Instead, Levi crumples to the ground, his face buried in his arms and shielded from Erwin.

Erwin's never seen Levi like this.

"Levi," Erwin breathes, kneeling down. He doesn't know what he could say to make it better. There is nothing that he could say to make it better. Not when it's his entire fault. "Let it out, Levi."

Levi shudders as Erwin wraps his arms around him. His face quickly finds the juncture between Erwin's neck and shoulder. Hot, wet tears gather there, but not a sound is made.

Sometimes silence is more comforting than words.

Another day passes. And another. And another.

And suddenly, it's the day of the military funerals.

42 soldiers died in the 57th Expedition. That means 42 slabs of stone, freshly carved with names that were once people's friends, children, siblings, parents, grandchildren and lovers.

42 people erased from the world too early.

Erwin and Levi stand side by side the entire time, the only exception being when Erwin leaves to make his condolence speech.

It is a horribly rehearsed, repeated and depressing affair.

Levi does his best to try and listen, but it's hard when he's got his mask of indifference on. He can't bear to listen to the speeches and the songs when they're mixed in with the sobs of the families. If he had his way, he wouldn't be here. The dead aren't honoured by these fake words. His Squad used to complain about the way these funerals were run all the time, as if they were wishing it would never happen to them. Levi's attendance meant nothing to them now.

But he wouldn't do that to their families. Right now, he attends out of respect to them, and them only.

But that doesn't mean he has to listen to their grief, so instead he focuses on Erwin, who is beautifully sombre as per usual. There are no tears from him, only strength and stability; something Levi wishes he had.

It is dusk when all of the families leave.

Levi stands before four graves.

He doesn't speak. Instead, he prays.

_We've made great strides today soldier. And tomorrow, because of you. Your strength won't die with you, because the torch will be carried on by me. This I swear… On my very life… The Titans will be eradicated._

He turns to Erwin who is waiting behind him. Always waiting.

"One day, Erwin." Levi vows. "One day we'll get it right, and their sacrifices, everybody's death, will finally mean something. I will fight for that day until my very last breath."

Erwin slips his hand into Levi's.

"As will I."

* * *

Author: find me at my tumblr (levierwins) or my twitter (levierwins)


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